


For love of unforgotten times

by Callistemon



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, Post-Season/Series 03, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 11:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16515110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callistemon/pseuds/Callistemon
Summary: Set after season 3, Foggy learns the truth about Matt's mother and tries to help him emotionally heal.





	For love of unforgotten times

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty cheesy, but I wanted to write a quick something about Foggy learning about Maggie post-season 3. It's a bit spoilery if you haven't seen the third season. The title comes from a Robert Louis Stevenson poem, To My Mother.

“Matt, open up,” Foggy called from the front door. “Matt, I know you’re in there. Open the door.” Foggy gave another sharp series of knocks before pulling out his keys.

Foggy pushed open the door, worried that he’d find his friend in a bloody heap on the floor. Instead, he could hear the gentle sound of the shower combined with the radio on full blast.

Foggy sighed in relief and wandered over to the fridge, which he’d personally restocked with groceries and a generous amount of beer only the day before. “Good going, Nelson,” he murmured to himself as he pulled out a bottle.

It was another five minutes before the radio was silenced and Matt wandered out with a towel around his waist, his face screwed up in confusion. “Foggy?”

“Hey, Matt.”

Matt rubbed his right ear with a slightly pained expression on his face and said, “what are you doing here?”

“I came to see if you were okay. Brett contacted me to say that there were reports of the _real_ Daredevil falling into a dumpster.”

Matt rubbed his ear again. “Yeah, my balance is a bit off.”

Foggy shook his head in disbelief. “Your balance is a bit off - that’s your explanation? It’s not that you’ve barely slept – if at all - in the last week? Or the fact that you look like you’ve been cut by more than a dozen knives?” Foggy looked at Matt’s many cuts and bruises and adopted a more sanguine tone. “You took down Fisk only two days ago for goodness sake. You’ve earned a rest.”

Matt sighed. “I tried. I couldn’t.” He poked at his ear and gave an irritated jerk of his head.

“What’s wrong with your ear?”

“Nothing. It’s residual – it’s nothing.”

Matt flopped into an armchair, wet towel and all.

“You look terrible,” Foggy said after an awkward silence.

Matt looked unimpressed. He opened his mouth to reply, but thought better of it, getting up with a pained grunt and wandering over to the fridge instead. “Thanks for the food. You got me enough beer to last a month,” Matt said, pulling out a bottle. “But I’m guessing you’re not just here for the alcohol.”

“You’re right. I’m not here for the beer. I’m here because Karen told me – about your-” Foggy paused, trying to come up with a delicate way of broaching the subject.

“Mother,” Matt finished in a small voice.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Matt?”

Matt shrugged. “I-I didn’t tell Karen either. That-that was –uh, Sister Maggie.”

“I’m sorry, Matt.”

Matt shook his head dismissively and took a swig of his beer. He shivered and placed the bottle on the table before disappearing into his bedroom. A few minutes later, Matt returned wearing sweats and a hoodie. He picked up the bottle in silence and sat cross-legged on the nearest armchair.

Foggy stared at him for a moment. “Are you okay?”

Matt shrugged.

“It must be hard-”

“I’m working it out.”

“Do you need to talk to someone? I know you don’t have… you don’t have Father Lantom anymore.”

Matt sighed. “I don’t think-” He paused. Matt’s heart ached at the thought of his last words to the priest. The feelings of betrayal would never go away, but he’d give anything, anything to go back. “I’m fine,” Matt lied.

Foggy studied his friend, who was deliberately angling his head away from Foggy’s gaze. “Well, I’m here if you need someone.”

Matt took another large swig and sat there for a moment, running his fingers over the label. He finally gave Foggy a small smile. “Thanks, Fog.”

 

* * *

 

“So we need to talk about Christmas,” Foggy said as he slid into a booth at Josie’s. He handed Matt a beer.

“What about it?”

“Well, you missed last year and mom isn’t going to let you miss another.”

“Your parents are in Florida.”

“They’re coming back for Christmas.”

Matt picked at his beer label. He opened his mouth to say something, hesitated, then went back to his picking.

Foggy ducked his head to get a better view of Matt’s face. “What’s that look for, Matt?”

“What look?”

“That look of doom and gloom.”

Matt looked like his was about to say something unpleasant, but then his expression suddenly changed to one of relief. Foggy instinctively looked at the door. Karen walked through only seconds later.

“You’re not getting out of this conversation,” Foggy whispered as Karen wandered over to join them.

Foggy smiled at Karen. “You’re just in time to talk about Christmas,” Foggy said with glee.

Karen raised an eyebrow, “what about it?”

Matt gave a small chuckle.

“You two,” Foggy said, shaking his head in mock dismay.

“Foggy wants us to come to Christmas,” Matt supplied. He took a long swig of his beer while trying to think of a way to divert the conversation.

“And Matt, I was thinking,” Foggy paused, then took a deep breath and said, “maybe you could ask your – um, Sister Maggie.”

Matt choked on his mouthful of beer.

Karen gave Foggy a look that clearly said, _what were you thinking?_

Matt wiped his mouth with his sleeve before croaking, “no.”

“What, just like that? You could at least pretend to consider it.”

“It’s Christmas, Fog. She’ll be taken up doing God’s work.” He said the last two words with a slight tone of bitterness.

“It’s always nice to be asked,” Karen said cautiously.

Foggy looked thrilled. “Does that mean you’ll come to the Nelson Christmas?”

“Yeah,” Karen smiled. “I’d love to.”

 

* * *

 

“I asked her,” Matt said to Foggy a week later.

Foggy looked up in surprise. Matt had been quiet all day, hunched over his work in the corner of their makeshift office.

“How do you sneak up on me like that,” Foggy muttered. He spotted Matt’s tortured expression and cleared his throat. “Sorry, uh, asked who what?”

“Sister Maggie. I figured – I-I- you’re right. I decided I might as well ask.”

“What did she say?”

“That she was working at the St Agnes Christmas lunch,” he said. The annual lunch was put on for the poor, the homeless, the lonely, and of course, the children at the orphanage. “She invited me to St Agnes, but I don’t think I could stand another year of soggy peas, powdered gravy, and overcooked beef. I vowed to never return after I turned eighteen.” He smiled, trying to hide his unease.

“I’m sorry, man. Maybe another time, eh?”

Matt nodded and wandered back to his office without another word.

 

* * *

 

“Matt’s here already,” Foggy’s mother said to her son as soon as he entered the butchery. “At least one of you is on time on Christmas Day.”

“It’s usually not Matt,” Foggy joked. He gave his mother a warm hug. “And hello to you too.”

They wandered into the living area out the back together to find Matt peeling potatoes. He had a crumpled paper crown perched on his head.

Foggy groaned, “Mom, what are you doing?”

“I know, I know, usually I’ve got everything in the oven by now. But my schedule’s out now that Theo’s moved everything.” She looked over to her other son, Theo, who was chatting with his father at the table, already onto his second whiskey for the day. “I don’t know how I reared two boys whose idea of cooking only involves putting something in a microwave. Apparently Theo threw away the whisk. How I’m going to whip the cream is beyond me-”

“Mom, I meant what are you doing putting your guest to work,” Foggy said, cutting short his mother’s rant.

Matt stopped peeling and gave them both a smile. “It’s fine. I enjoy it.”

Mrs Nelson gave Matt’s arm an affectionate squeeze and said to Foggy. “Matt’s very thorough too… unlike others I know.”

“I don’t mind the eyes of potatoes. It’s authentic,” Foggy said, wandering over to Matt’s side. He whispered, “Matt, do you want a beer?”

“Maybe after I finish.” Matt picked up another from the massive pile on the sink. Sensing everyone in the kitchen had their backs turned, Matt gave the knife a quick spin, easily catching it again by the handle.

“Show off,” Foggy muttered, rolling his eyes at Matt’s smirk.

“If you want to make yourself helpful, Foggy-” Mrs Nelson called across the kitchen.

Matt whispered, “go, we’ll never hear the end of it otherwise,” and they both laughed under their breath.

 

 

Karen turned up ten minutes later and was immediately put to work topping green beans. Foggy made sarcastic comments about house elves, but Matt genuinely didn’t mind. He needed to be busy. It took his mind off things. Idle thinking had been dangerous over the last year. He was no longer plagued by the deep depression that made him consider ending his life (and nearly succeed not once, but twice). However, he was by no means free of the crippling anxiety and guilt that followed the most recent drama with Fisk.

By the time the Nelsons (and their many neighbors, friends and extended family members) sat down for lunch, Matt had finally relaxed enough that he was able to join in with the increasingly drunken chatter, the swapping of bad Christmas cracker jokes, and Foggy’s parents’ insistence that Matt catch them up on two years of his life.

They were halfway through Mr Nelson’s dramatic retelling of their new neighbor’s topiary obsession when they heard the shop doorbell ring.

“Someone must have forgotten to lock the door,” Mrs Nelson said, getting up with a pointed look at Theo.

“Foggy was the last one at the door,” Theo retorted.

“Boys, boys,” Mr Nelson said good-humoredly.

Foggy looked across at Matt who was sitting dead still, a frown on his face. Seconds later, Foggy discovered why.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Sister Maggie said as she entered the room.

“That’s okay,” Mrs Nelson said. “I’ll fetch another chair. Theo, can you get Sister Maggie a chair,” she ordered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise we had another guest.”

“I told Matthew I couldn’t come, but you know the saying – too many cooks spoil the broth… I think they can do without me in the kitchen for a few hours.”

They all shuffled around the table so that Sister Maggie could squeeze in between Matt and Karen. Both Matt and Sister Maggie sat stiffly, barely exchanging a word aside from an initial greeting. Around them, the conversation continued, more wine was poured, more shots of whiskey consumed. The second turkey was pulled out of the oven, and Foggy made a beeline for a second helping of turkey, tossing a thick slice onto Matt’s plate when he sat back down. “You need more meat on you, Matt,” he said.

“He certainly does,” Maggie said. “Are you surviving on just beer alone, or beer _and_ whiskey?”

Matt rolled his eyes behind his glasses. “I’m eating just fine,” he said.

There was an awkward silence before Karen cleared her throat, “Sister Maggie, would you like some wine?”

“No thank you,” Maggie said crisply.

Karen exchanged looks with Foggy. This wasn’t exactly what Foggy had in mind when he invited Matt’s mother to Christmas lunch.

Sister Maggie ate a small forkful of turkey. “This is very nice.”

Foggy smiled. “Well, it is fresh. Nelson meats do it best.”

“I remember,” Maggie replied. “I used to buy my meat here back when-” she paused. “Hmm… yes, it’s very good.”

As Maggie glanced down at her plate to cut off another piece of turkey, Foggy looked at Karen with pleading eyes. She shrugged and gave him a gesture that clearly said, _you’re the talker amongst the three of us, so talk_.

“We’re nearly ready to move out of the back room here,” Foggy said in an attempt to kickstart a conversation. “Nelson, Murdock & Page will finally have an office that is vegetarian friendly.”

Matt huffed in amusement. “We’re vego-friendly.”

“What about all those meat particles in the air?”

“If you want to talk about smell particles, let’s go outside to the alleyway,” Matt returned, earning a groan from both Karen and Foggy.

“For someone with such a sensitive sense of smell, you do spend an inordinate amount of time in alleyways and dumpsters, Matthew,” Maggie said, earning a laugh from both Karen and Foggy.

“You’re all ganging up on me now, huh,” Matt said. But Foggy caught a slight smile before Matt took a swig of his beer.

“Oh no, we wouldn’t dare,” Karen said.

“Last time I tried to punch someone, I ended up pulling a muscle and couldn’t raise my arm above my head for days,” Foggy joked.

Maggie gave a small chuckle. “Did Matthew tell you about the time he took on five boys three years older than him?”

“No,” Foggy and Karen said in unison. They both looked at Matt, who tried to keep a straight face. But it was obvious he was still proud of the incident.

Maggie looked at Matt, who was suddenly busying himself with the extra slab of turkey. She gave an amused huff and said, “Matthew was just 13, and he decided that he was sick of this particular gang of 16-year-old boys picking on one of his classmates.”

Matt gave a shrug. Of course he found it unacceptable.

“So he cornered them in the courtyard,” Maggie continued. “It wasn’t a pleasant outcome for any of the boys - Matthew included - but it did stop the bullying.”

“And I got detention for the rest of the school year,” Matt said in a tone of mock indignation.

Maggie straightened her mouth. “Yes, well, we couldn’t condone your behaviour, even if it did ultimately have a positive effect.”

“Some things don’t change,” Foggy said with a chuckle. “What else can you tell us, Sister?”

She leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “well there was this one time…”

Two hours later, the three friends and Sister Maggie spilled out onto the sidewalk, armed with dozens of stories of Matt’s (up until that point) mysterious childhood. With the exception of Sister Maggie, all were nicely inebriated.

“It was nice seeing you again,” Foggy said to the Sister.

“And you too, Foggy. It was nice meeting Matthew’s friends,” she said, glancing back at Matt to see his reaction.

Matt gave an embarrassed smile.

“And maybe next year, I’ll be on time,” Maggie added. “Goodbye Matthew,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. She hailed a passing cab and gave the three friends a wave.

“She came,” Foggy said to Matt.

 “She did.” Matt pulled his scarf tighter around his neck.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I am. I really am.” Matt grasped Foggy’s arm. “Now can you lead me home? I might have overcompensated.” He gave a small hiccup and blushed red.

“Sure, but you have to tell me about the rat incident from your point of view.”

Matt laughed. “It was dangerous introducing you to someone from my childhood.” He grinned and said, “before I tell you about the rat, you need to know one thing: I was a know-it-all little shit.” He gave another hiccup.

Karen chuckled. “Matthew Murdock, a know-it-all? Never.”

As Foggy and Karen moved on to swapping know-it-all Murdock stories, Matt thought back to Sister Maggie’s last words. “Next year,” she’d said. He was okay with that. Matt moved a little closer to Foggy, his cheeks burning against the cold winter air. He couldn't believe that only a few months ago he wanted to give all this up - Matt Murdock, his friends, helping the community through law _and_ vigilantism... Maybe - _just maybe_ \- he'd passed through the worst knots in the back of that tapestry God was weaving. He could only hope.


End file.
